


Drapetomania

by J_EnotsoLovely



Series: Escapism [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biphobia, Boys Being Boys, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, M/M, Nakama, Nakamaship, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Running Away, Self-Discovery, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts, petty crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_EnotsoLovely/pseuds/J_EnotsoLovely
Summary: "They say its a feeling that doesn't go away. A sensation that gnaws that you. Eats at your brain and crawls under your skin until there's nothing left but scraps." Sanji flexed his fingers, knowing his expression was haunted. "Monachopsis, its called. The consistent feeling of being out of place.""Then let's find somewhere." Zoro responded, mouth set in a rigid line that the blond learned to recognize as stubborn determination. "A place, just for us."Sanji couldn't help it. He laughed.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: Escapism [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106378
Comments: 62
Kudos: 63





	1. Altschmerz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AMidsummerStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidsummerStorm/gifts), [FyreCatPickles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyreCatPickles/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wondered what it said about him, that out of all the gruesome deaths he'd envisioned for himself, this one wasn't bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is basically Desperado (if you've read it, if not its literally no issue)  
> I know that can be super repetitive but I BEG you to reread it! (here I mean. DON'T reread Deserado)  
> I added a lot of little stuff that I feel made it better!  
> (and there's this one line I love and i just want you guys to read it fhvjdfvfdsv)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Living with anxiety is like being followed by a voice. It knows all your insecurities and uses them against you. It gets to the point when it's the loudest voice in the room. The only one you can hear. _

__-_ _Unknown 

* * *

They met underneath a car bridge in the dead of night. 

It was pouring, the sound of rain loud and steady, enough to silence even his innermost thoughts. For now, at least. He looked around, but couldn't see jack shit for lack of light. His body was soaked through with rain water, clothes heavy and dragging. The grass squelched underfoot and the uncomfortable noise made him wince in slight disgust. Even walking was difficult, each step like forcing his way out of quick sand. 

Sanji cursed as he ran into a branch, the jagged surface scratching his cheek, dangerously close to his eye and he shied away. He glanced up, startling when the constant downpour suddenly ceased, quieting around him, and realized that he was under an overpass. Now that he listened, _really_ listened, he could hear the tell tale rumble of cars. In a moment of bleak resignation, he wondered if the large cement posts would crumble. He wondered if that will be the literal incarnation of his world falling apart around him.

It was simultaneously a disturbing and comforting thought. 

While he was distracted, there was a low growl that the 17 year old almost missed, too consumed by his morbid inclinations. The loud snap of a stick caught his attention and hr tensed, preparing to fight off whatever was approaching. He turned at the last moment, certain that it was one of his brothers-- likely Yonji, the problematic bastard-- having finally caught up with him and got a glimpse of a flash of green. Or maybe blonde, he can't quite tell. It was hard to see in the dark.

Around his residence--because that place will _never_ be home-- he knew it like that back of his hand. After all, he could hardly predict his father's moods, and a backhanded slap was always on the horizon. Let alone the jibes of his brothers. What better place to run than the one where he lived?

Fortunately, Sanji was always particularly good at hiding in plain sight. 

From his peripheral, he saw an arm rise as well as the low glint of something metal and let his reflexes kick in, not bothering to distract himself with the numerous questions he harbored and lifted his leg, stopping the staff....pipe... _thing_ in its path. There was a huff of annoyance, and then the pressure alleviated for a moment, only to return with stronger force. It was enough to push the 17 year old back a few feet, slipping easily on the wet, muddy concrete. This action repeated, the clash becoming increasingly more desperate. Sanji did his best to block it all while standing upright, even delivering his own kicks from time to time. He really didn't want to have to use his hands. Just the thought of having to stick his hand in some cold, soppy substance made him shiver. 

By this point, Sanji had concluded this is _not,_ in fact, any of his brothers, but it still left a shit ton of questions unanswered. Namely, who the _hell_ is this guy? And why was he attacking _Sanji_ of all people?

They moved pretty far from their initial position in the duration of the scuffle and passed under the light of a street lamp. He got a decent look at bright green hair, tanned skin, and the flash of anguished eyes before they were plunged right back into shadow, the blond performing a no hand flip to avoid another strike. 

The staff, which, by now he realized is a fucking _SWORD,_ nicks the hem of his pants. It was hardly a graze, didn't even break past the thick folds of wet fabric and yet it still was enough to throw him off guard and he stumbled, steps staggering. The swordsman tackled him to the ground, and the concrete _hurts,_ knocking the air from his lungs. It wasn't nearly as detrimental as the beatings his brother's dished out, but fairly painful.

Through the haze of discomfort, he realized that his head had been cradled carefully, laid gently on the floor as though it were scared. Clearly, this kid was insane, whoever he was, showing malicious intent one second, the unexpected kindness the next and Sanji prepared for the worst, closing his eyes and letting out a low breath. He wondered what it said about him, that out of all the gruesome deaths he'd envisioned for himself ~~someone like him didn't deserve anything peaceful~~ , this one wasn't bad at all. To die at the hands of a random madman under a car bridge at god knows _what_ time of the night. 

He waited patiently, for the final blow, then got impatient when nothing happened and he opened his eyes, freezing when he saw the face so close to his own. It was a startlingly heart wrenching glare, so raw and open and with much more vulnerability than Sanji was ever used to seeing from anyone. Even his own mother is often closed off, warm, but locked away, hiding the weakest parts of herself from him. He laid on the cold ground quietly, unsure of what to make of a complete stranger studying him with such soft despair. It was unnerving, even more so when the teen reached out as if to stroke his face soothingly, before pulling back suddenly. 

The same hand fell to the ground, not far from the blond's hair and really, Sanji's libido had no self control because now he was acutely aware of his attacker's strong thighs flexing occasionally on either side of him, and gazed in the direction where he assumed the arms were, imagining how toned they must be. Despite the cold, his body began heating up, and what a horrible thing it would be, to die horny. 

_Death by Blueballs._ Sanji envisioned on his makeshift gravestone, hardly a pebble on the side of some unnamed road, a tiny '3' the only sign of his existence. _Caused by dick or pussy, no one knows._

He cursed lowly, shaking the intrusive thoughts off, brief feeling of attraction chased away by his father's words of _unnatural, unclean,_ and his brothers' taunts of _slut, greedy slut, you can't have your cake and eat it too."_

Shame pooled lowly in his gut and he shifted slightly, thankful for the cover of the night. A light hiccup broke him from his stupor, followed by a low heave, and Sanji didn't have to look up to know that the wetness falling on his face was not the rain. Nor was it his own tears. ~~_He made certain to always cry on the inside. His brothers smelled tears like sharks smelled blood._~~

"Sorry." The teen above him mumbled, voice deep and thick with an emotion that can only be described as a mixture of grief and anger. "You...looked like her, in the dark."

This was normally the moment he'd crack a joke about girl troubles but something told him that if he did, he'd actually get killed and for some peculiar reason, he suddenly felt like hanging around for a bit longer. 

"Didn't mean to disappoint." Sanji replied back in a slow drawl, before wincing, realizing too late how insensitive that might've sound. He spared a glance at the teen, who was finally getting up, and was surprised to see what he thought was a blush spreading leisurely over dark features. 

It was a charming appearance, and Sanji found himself wishing that it were lighter outside. He was sure it'd be a sight.

"That's not what I meant." The other corrected quietly. His voice sounded far away, deep and melodic. Somehow, the blond got the feeling that he didn't talk much. "It's not like you could've been _her_ anyways. " There was a pause and a sense of foreboding. "Since she's dead."

Sanji made a noise, lowering his head and glancing away, not processing that it was dark anyways. He didn't know who the woman was, or what she meant to this boy, but he thought of Sora, then thought of Sora dying and felt his heart shatter.

They stood in silence, and the blond wasn't sure what to do now. He wouldn't apologize, it wasn't as if had anything to feel sorry for. He couldn't comfort people for shit, not without food at least, and there wasn't a stove in sight. 

His lips twitched, eager for a cigarette, _or for a dick,_ as his brothers liked to say. Sad thing was, Sanji wasn't really sure anymore if that was an _actual_ lie. He winced, cutting his eyes from the bridge. 

He almost forgot that someone else was there, when a voice picked up. "So, what're _you_ running from?"

Sanji wanted to break into hysterics, but he didn't, instead settling for a light scoff. He walked away, shame guiding his feet, and back to his shitty excuse for a home. "What _aren't_ I running from?" he replied dryly over his shoulder. 

He was almost back in the rain, when the teen spoke again, words coming out rushed, as if quickly contemplated. "My name is Zoro! Meet me here again!"

Sanji paused, stopping mid step, toes of his right foot getting soaked all over again. Unbidden, his lip quirked up in a semblance of a smile and he raised his hand in a backwards wave. "Sanji." He said in return.

He crushed down the feeling of disgust, beginning his decent to that called he was expected to call _home_ and hoped he'd see Zoro again.

* * *

-+-

* * *

The walk home was dreadful. Sanji slouched low, hoodie doing nothing assist in protection from the rain, cotton fabric utterly decimated by hordes of water, everything plastered to his skin like one large, horrid wetsuit. He cursed loudly at a car that came dangerously close to to the curb-- sidewalk completely non- existent-- and driving straight through a filthy, germ infested puddle.

He spluttered, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth, only to get a sickening taste of rain and stale cigarettes. He was going to get sick from this, and if he _didn't_ , then miracles were fucking real and Sanji was finally going to devote his life to the Christian god. He'd even fuck around and find a group of old, creepy pastors to hang with. He mused over the fact that most pastors, catholic especially, tended to be mass manipulators. The very rapists and molesters they preached against. It was, perhaps, even more intriguing that that all believed what they were doing was right, for the _cause,_ whatever the hell that meant. And they convinced the women who's body they violated that this was the way the world was, and that as women, they should lay down, legs wide open and take it.

The mind was powerful. It was why Sanji was certain in his worth-- or rather, his lack of it. It was why he knew without a doubt that he'd never change anyone's life for the better. It was why he wanted to die, despite knowing that it wouldn't fix shit. It was why he listened, and took his family's criticisms to heart, even when he _knew_ they were being cruel. Maybe the most peculiar fact of it all was that Sanji knew things on two different spectrum of thought. There was, in theory, his heart, and his brain. Logos and Pathos.

Logically, _someone_ cared. There were too many people in the world that he'd come into contact throughout the duration of his life. Even as a total nobody, his life had impact. Then there was the fact that he _wasn't_ a nobody. That as a Vinsmoke, prevalent or not, he was in some degree of spotlight. That there was _s_ _omeone_ out of all those people, who cared, or at the very least would be consumed by curiosity. The problem was Sanji being a contrary bastard. 

He wanted someone to care, yet didn't care if the person that cared was someone _he_ didn't care about. 

Sanji sighed, not even sure what line of thought he was going down anymore, words becoming melded in his mind, running into one another until they became something incomprehensible. 

Through the darkness, he saw the familiar glow of neighborhood lights and his feet practically wept in relief. His calves were burning, and back still in pain from the fight earlier. It was a peculiar way to meet a person, for sure. The blond didn't think he'd forget that disturbed expression any time soon. He chuckled quietly though, at the almost tragically romantic way that they parted-- with promises to meet again no less-- and the cliche absurdness of it all. He shook his head affectionately, before pausing, wondering what it was about the other teen that even warranted any sliver of Sanji's affection.

_Like calls to like._

Sanji tried not to think about it, but he knew. He _knew._ He liked the understanding that he wasn't the only one broken. It was satisfying, comforting to know that he wasn't the only person in pieces. 

Before he continue down the morbid path, his phone buzzed, overly fucking expensive water proof case finally coming in handy and the 17 year old reached into his pocket, pulling out the small device. The rain had lessened significantly since he started his walk, and now only the occasional drop of water fell, striking the screen of his phone and dripping away. It was a text from Reiju, and the teen held in a sigh, knowing that her correspondence with him meant something bad. 

**Reiju** **[2:30 a.m]:** _The door is locked. Go in through the window. I left rope._

He cursed lowly, running a hand over his face, eye twitching in irritation. His brothers were always like this, using their father's business trips away to be exceedingly tyrannical. Though it wasn't as if things were drastically different even on the rare occasions that the Judge _was_ there. 

**Sanji [2:31 a.m]:** _Alright. Thanks._

There was no response.

Approaching the obnoxiously large house, he glided up the marble steps, and after a bit of hesitation, placed his hands on the golden handle, giving it a light squeeze and turn. He tried not to feel dejected when nothing happened, the large black door staying stubbornly closed, just as he knew it would. 

The silver plate stared back him mockingly, engraved _Vinsmoke_ reminding him that he was about to enter a place that he didn't belong. About to enter a place that didn't even _want_ him. It's so fucking _absurd and pathetic_ that Sanji wants to cry and laugh at the same time. It was ridiculous, the thought that he was going to break into a residence that didn't want him there. He was breaking and entering for all intents and purposes. 

Imagine, breaking into a place _you_ don't even want to go. 

But then, Sanji had no where else. Nowhere else except the bridge maybe. And for once, he didn't mean jumping off it, but rather what would-- _should_ be waiting for him underneath.

Hopefully.

With a sigh, he stepped back from the door and rushed to the backyard, jumping over the white picket fence. He held in a snort, amused by how stereotypically _white_ he and his family were. It was almost blasphemous, completely laughable, about how much of sheltered childhood he had in retrospect. But what a way to be raised, considering that his shelter was the most dangerous place he knew. 

He reached into the hole of a familiar tree, the one he and Reiju used for situations like this, and pulled out a thick coil of rope. He thanked his sister silently for having the foresight to turn on the back lights and provide some kind of illumination. Sanji reached up and grasped the nearest branch, before hauling himself up, and dragging the rope with him. 

They clashed through the leaves and the blond winced, hoping that if his brothers overheard for whatever reason, they would mistake him for a woodland creatures or some shit. He remembered the shotgun resting behind the down stairs china chabinet and felt a cold sweat form, recalling Niji's quiet love for killing small animals. ~~One of the main signs someone was a fucking _psychopath_ but no one wanted to talk about it.~~

He climbed higher, until he he was positioned diagonal from his bedroom window, a few feet higher. Sanji growled as leaves hit his face and did his best to keep his mouth close, praying that no insects would come out of the wood works and find its home on his skin. Tying the the end of the rope on a particularly sturdy branch, he tugged hard, testing to make sure it'd hold his weight, before eyeing the ledge next to his window. It wasn't to far, and maybe he _did_ have something to thank the old bastard for, considering his long legs. 

Sanji tested the other end of the rope, holding in one palm, and then the other, before nodding, satisfied. He tightened his grip, then leaned back on the thick branch rocking to the edge for lack of any running and bent his legs. He jumped off, and relished the feeling of wind against his face. It was cold, it lashed across his face and whipped raindrops into his eye.

Just as fast, it was over, and his foot was touching the edge of the window seal. He reached out, grabbing the wall with one hand and pulled himself closer, breathing heavy as he finally let go of the wood. 

Balancing on the edge, he pulled the small handle up, letting out an audible sigh of relief at the small _click._ It meant that either his brothers we more occupied with something else, or that Reiju was keeping an eye out for him. Likely both. Using the toe of his shoes, he tugged at the glass pane, lifting it all the way up and silently singing praises to his flexibility.

Steadying himself, Sanji ducked into the dark room, hopping onto the ground and smiled softly when he saw one of the messier towels laid out on the floor. His sister really did have his back, despite her cold language and indifferent stares. The intrusive voice in his head said that it was only because she was secretly hoping that being nice to him would mean he'd commit a cleaner suicide. 

He told the voice to shut up.

The house was quiet, unusual considering the fact that his brothers had full rein. It felt strange, oddly uncomfortable and it wasn't as though he _enjoyed_ all the mockery and insults, but it was still better than the silence. _Kenopsia._ The word popped in his mind. _The eerie forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling, suddenly quiet and empty._

Sora was in the hospital ~~she practically _lived_ there~~ and the Vinsmokes were known for throwing parties of all kind, so he was surprised not to at least a _little bit_ of commotion. Yonji and Niji had chased him to that bridge _hours_ ago and should've been home by now. 

Sanji tried and failed to convince himself that he wasn't worried about his shitty excuse for siblings. 

"Yonji has gone over to one of his friends house." A soft voice sounded and Sanji jumped, tense stance relaxing when he saw it was only his sister. "You eldest brothers are out on the town for once."

Reiju was standing in the middle of his bedroom, wearing a lacy pink nightgown and her short hair was done up in a ponytail. She smiled slightly at him, a bit of warmth raiding her expression.

"Learn how to knock, why don't you?" He muttered without any real malice, shucking off his sneakers and wet socks, sighing happily as his poor feet were spared. "I at least expect _you_ to be more decent than the other three."

His sister chuckled, and Sanji supposed he should feel weird about the fact that he was stripping in front of his older sibling without any reservation but it wasn't. Especially not considering the fact that Reiju had to see him near naked several times throughout the years. It wasn't like the he could've reached all the cuts and bruises by himself. 

"Knock? And that's necessary because...?" She trailed off, cerulean gaze expectant. Of all things, Sanji was glad that she was the one who got their mother's eyes. 

He shrugged as an answer to her question, undoing the button of his jeans and peeling it off of his skin with a disgusted expression. "I dunno. I could've been jacking off or something." 

Normally he'd filter himself around ladies, but Reiju was different. And she'd likely murder him if he tried acting all chivalrous with her. _It's already dead and that's how it must remain._ She said to him once, after he'd given her one kiss on either cheek.

"A germaphobe like you?" She purred quietly, gliding over to sit on the end of his bed, legs crosses and face resting on palms. "I don't see that happening. Not without a bath at least."

"Which I plan on taking." Sanji sniffed, pretending to be offended. He was standing in only his boxers and gave the woman a pointed glare. " _Alone_. Unless _someone_ plans on following me in there?"

He only got a secretive mile in return. 

"I'm glad you made a friend." The woman said, and Sanji paused, hesitating a second too long before putting up his middle finger, growling as she laughed, a tinkering sound that pulled at the edges of his lips. 

Reiju was gone by the time he emerged, feeling clean and sated, and the house was still silent. He tried not to let it bothering him, sighing at his typical paranoia. "Altschmerz." the blond whispered quietly as he crawled into bed, letting the covers swallow him whole. _Weariness with the same old issues you've always had. The same boring problems and anxieties you've been gnawing on for years._

Sanji curled into a ball, throwing the cover over his head and reminding himself that he still had to wake up in a few hours, despite the fact that it was well past four in the fucking morning. In the stillness of the room, he thought he could hear his pulse and shuddered in mild revulsion. 

_Rubatosis_ , he remembered, suddenly. _The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat._

Sleep came and with it were blank dreams. 


	2. Opia and Willows

_That was the night I finally understood why people Feared Silence._

_-_ Unknown

* * *

"God Zoro, you're so _weak_."

He grit his teeth in irritation, feeling his eye twitch and sweat fall down his eyebrow and onto the dark blue mat. The sun had begun to set half an hour ago, but even still the 11 year old felt hot. His skin burned, breathing heavy and knees sinking into the plush material. Standing, he dust off his pants, knocking away the outstretched hand and glowering up at the girl. 

Kuina stood proudly, shinai tossed expertly over her shoulder and dark blue eyes reflecting her smug smile. She stuck her tongue out at him before putting her hand on her hip. “Don’t make that ugly face at me.” She commanded, bopping Zoro harshly on the head with the edge of her practice sword. “Not my fault you lost.” 

“I’ll beat you one day, just you wait.” He mumbled, falling in step beside her as they made their way outside. The shadows were growing long, and his stomach rumbled loudly. He aimed a strike at Kuina as she laughed, dodging his blow and dropping her shinai in the bucket by the door. He followed suit, snickering when her own stomach let out a monstrous noise, even louder than Zoro’s. 

They looked at each other in a moment of shocked silence before bursting into a fit of giggles, laughing so hard they collapsed on the ground. Clouds of dust burst through the air, auburn dirt staining their clothes and hair. Turning to the side, Zoro clutched his ribs, finding the whole situation unreasonably funny. In the process, his leg kicked into Kuina’s by accident, who kicked back on reflex. _Harder._

The apprentice narrowed his eyes, smirking evilly when his gaze caught the girl’s and he saw that they wore matching expressions. Kuina was the one who struck first, rolling over and pinning Zoro’s body under hers, deceptively strong hands digging into his shoulder while her knee found itself on his stomach. His body flailed desperately, a low growl coming out as he bucked forward, throwing his attacker off him. He jumped over, trying to move fast so that she couldn’t react and trapped Kuina face down. Zoro let out a caterwaul of victory before noticing that he body was tilting.

Neither realized how close to the edge of the hill they were until it was too late. They rolled down, making contact with what felt like every bush in the forest. Next to him, he heard Kuina scream, her voice shrill and amused. _She’s having fun._ He thought and joined in not long after, letting himself go with gravity. They came to rest at the bottom, and Zoro laid out, legs spread and on his back. He stared up at the sky and listened to the sound of the villagers. He sat up, looking over at his friend to find that she was already staring at him.

“What?” he asked, still feeling a bit dazed. He watched as she reached over, pulling a stick from his hair and poking him in the cheek with it.

“You look like some kind of forest monster.” Kuina said, an amused glint in her eyes. “And that hair of yours isn’t helping.”

“Oi!” Zoro argued, shaking his fist, though it was without any heat. He opened his mouth to say something else, when a woman's voice caught his attention.

“Oh dear. What a sight. A beautiful thing such as her should not be….traversing with _boys.”_ The last words were spoken with distaste, so much that it made the 12 year old bristle, baring his teeth at the older woman. “It's demeaning. Shame on the father.”

“Shut it, old hag.” Zoro snapped, causing her to balk at the harsh comment before stalking off, dragging her two children with her.

He glanced back at Kuina, who was staring silently, her blue eyes burning with a quiet fire. “Let’s eat.” the 14 year old stated and he gave a nod, remembering his hunger. They walked through the main town without talking, drifting from booth to booth, looking for a vendor who’d sell to them before closing time. 

Zoro wasn’t sure what to say. He was angry, beyond angry, but it likely wasn’t anything compared to how his friend was feeling.

“Hey.” Kuina started, breaking him from his thoughts. She was looking up at the sky, orange and reds having faded to a starless black. “I’m going to become the strongest swordsman.”

He grinned, punching her in the arm. “No way! Like hell you are.” Zoro retorted. “There’s no one stronger than us, but _I’ll_ be the strongest swordsman!”

|-+-|

Zoro woke with a start, eyes flinging open and face wet. He let out a watery breath, throat constricting and heart pounding. Turning over, he felt the mattress dip, falling off the side and crashing to the floor. He groaned, feeling a dull throb in his back, pulsing through his ribs and winced. From this angle the sun got in his eyes and he stared forlornly at the thick curtains, watching as bright rays tried to force their way through. It seemed disturbingly reflective of the way his life was now.

"Are you alright?" Came the muffled voice and he startled, glancing at his wooden door, brain taking a while to process that Koshiro was coming. "Zoro, are you alright??"

The voice was closer now and the 17 year old broke out of his stupor, scrambling up off the carpet and standing fully just as the older man walked through the door, concern etched all over his expression. They gazed at each other for what felt like eternity, more than enough time for Zoro to realize just how disheveled he probably looked. His hair was likely askew and pants hanging low on his hips, eyes with an infinite amount of bags under them. Though Koshiro hardly looked much better, his long hair loose and wild, glasses nowhere in sight.

It was a hard thing to look at, his adoptive father so far from composed.

Zoro glanced away, unable to look the old man in the eye and muttered under his breath. "I'm fine." He looked down at the floor, fists balled at his sides and tongue heavy, laden with the next words. "I fell, is all."

It rung throughout the room like a death toll. 

"Be careful." Koshiro whispered before leaving the room. Zoro didn't stop him from going. 

He led himself to the shower, his feet dragging along the carpet in labored steps, the bathroom door suddenly seeming so far away. He thought about the blond from the night before, wondering what his deal was. The 17 year old remembered the blankness of that singular blue eye, and how pissed it had made him feel, because it was the same expression Kuina had made so many years ago.

The water was hot. It scalded his skin and fogged the glass door, so blurry and uncertain. Zoro let the water wash over him and bowed his head, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind. 

Just one day ago, Kuina died, and now Zoro was expected to go back to his normal life like nothing change. And really, nothing changed. It was a difference that would affect no one but him, Koshiro, and a few government officials. In the grand scheme of things, he was nobody. They were nobody.

 _Willow, sadness._ He thought, distantly finding it amusing that his body was slouched like that of the tree. _Weeping Willow._

He reached for the knob, turning the water off and stepping out quietly. It wasn't like there was anyone around to see him, and still he was grateful to the dripping water because it hid his tears relatively well.

Outside he could hear the birds chirping and Zoro growled, hitting the door so hard that it rattled its hinges. Everything was _normal._ it was disgusting how oblivious the world world was. How willingly ignorant. 

It was strange to think that everyday people were dying, and that he was one of the millions of mindless sheep who went about life never knowing of it. 

_They met underneath a car bridge in the dead of night._

_It was pouring, the sound of rain loud and steady, enough to silence even his innermost thoughts. For now, at least. He looked around, but couldn't see jack shit for lack of light. His body was soaked through with rain water, clothes heavy and dragging. The grass squelched underfoot and the uncomfortable noise made him wince in slight disgust. Even walking was difficult, each step like forcing his way out of quick sand. He actually considered letting the ground swallow him hold, let it suck him in, so that he'd never return._

_Zoro paused in his steps as he heard a low curse, watching as someone walked into a blatantly obvious branch. From a distance it looked like it was close to striking an eye and he snorted at the incompetence of whoever it was. He glanced up, startling when the constant downpour suddenly ceased, quieting around him, and realized that he was under an overpass. Now that he listened, really listened, he could hear the tell tale rumble of cars. In a moment of bleak resignation, he wondered if the large cement posts would crumble. He wondered if that will be the literal incarnation of his world falling apart around him._

_It was simultaneously a disturbing and comforting thought. Though it was much too late he supposed. His world had been destroyed only hours before._

_While he was distracted, he noticed that the person had come closer, their hair dark from the rain and posture strong. It was eerily similar to her, or at least appeared that way in the dead of night and Zoro growled. The rational part of his mind told him that the apparition of her that he saw wasn't real, but his instinct took over. The loud snap of a stick broke him out of his thoughts for a moment as he charged towards the other teen, who looked around his aged. He sliced Wado down in a hard arc, surprised when he was blocked with nothing but a foot. He lifted Wado again, hitting the apparition of Kuina again, and again, growing progressively desperate as each of his attemptes were thwarted._

_"StopstopstptopSTOP." His mind screamed. "Youleftyouleftyouleft." Kuina was dead. She was dead and he was going to make her pay for leaving him._

_They moved pretty far from their initial position in the duration of the scuffle and passed under the light of a street lamp. Through his haze of rage and sorrow he got a decent look at dark blond hair, pale skin blotched red and purple with bruises, and the flash of anguished blue eyes before they were plunged right back into shadow, the blond performing a no hand flip to avoid another strike._

_He managed to nick the edge of his opponents pants and wasted no time tacking him to the floor. Just as he let go of Wado, a surge of panic filled his chest and his mind scattered nothing but fear filling his heart. Fallingfallingfalling. It was a ceaseless mantra and in an attempt to salvage the blond, he shoved his hand under the surprisingly silky hair._

_Zoro watched with an odd string of emotions as the other relaxed in his arms, seemingly waiting for the final blow to be dealt. It made him wonder exactly what the teen had to go through as he studied the many dark blotches of skin as well as he could under the cover of the dark._

_Suffering. So much suffering. It was everywhere, all the time, he couldn't fucking escape and it was frightening. It was fucking scary. He felt tears pool into his eyes and sniffled, feeling both angry and sad._ _"Sorry. You...looked like her, in the dark."_

_"Didn't mean to disappoint." the other replied back in a slow drawl, before wincing, maybe realizing too late how insensitive that might've sound. It made Zoro smile, to see consideration and kindness, even from someone he wronged._

_He was so undeserving of it. Of anything, let alone from someone that attractive.The thought took the 17 year old by surprised and he blushed, feeling his face heat and shame soon follow it, disgusted by his easy distraction from her._

_"That's not what I meant." Zoro corrected quietly. Even to himself, his voice sounded far away, deep and melodic. It was weird sometimes, hearing his own voice. He didn't talk often. He paused and there was a sense of foreboding. "Since she's dead."_

_The other made a noise, lowering his head and glancing away in what the teen could only assume to be sympathy._

_They stood in silence, and the 17 year old wasn't sure what to do now._

_He studied the blond, and wished that there was light, because something about this guy rubbed him the wrong way. It was peculiar sensation, not at filled with malice, but no less hostile, and maybe even a bit friendly. He remembered the haunted, broken look in that gaze-- so similar to hers-- and the words slipped out before he could stop them._ _"So, what're you running from?"_

_The other let out a scoff. He walked away, not sparing a glance back. "What aren't I running from?" he replied dryly over his shoulder._

_He was almost back in the rain, when Zoro spoke again, feeling an inexplicable pull and need to see the blond again. "My name is Zoro! Meet me here again!"_

_A hand raised in a backwards wave. "Sanji." He said in return._

_Zoro hoped that he'd see Sanji again._

He stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed in a black shirt and black joggers, shivering slightly at the cool air that brushed over his skin. Putting on his shoes, Zoro walked out of his bedroom and into the hallway. It was strange, a part of him expected Kuina to jump out of the shadows and tease him for being a cry baby. She's sling her arms around his shoulder once he settled down and offer to make onigiri with him. He'd pretend to be pissed but then only hours later he'd smile and laugh like usual.

Thinking about food made Zoro realize that was hungry, but he hardly in the mood to eat and instead made his way to the living room, surprised when he heard multiple voices. A stupid little person in his head whispered _its her_ and even against logic he found himself marching towards where the sound was originating. He turned the corner and froze, looking directly at a woman in all black clothing and a pile of paperwork. 

Next to Koshiro was a pile of bills and Zoro's heart sank, plummeting to the floor so fast it almost made his knees buckle. 

She had the audacity to smile at him. "Please, come in, we were just discussing the costs of the funeral."

Zoro ran.

He ran fast. Away. Far far Away. He had no clue where the hell he was going, but no fucking way was he staying there. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been going, but soon found himself back at the bridge and slowed down, unslinging Wado and looking at its scabbard. Zoro unsheathed the blade, and tried to imagine that it was his adoptive sister in front of him. 

"You better be in here Kuina." Zoro muttered, quietly. "And not in some random fucker's sword instead. That'd be utter bullshit. I'm going to be the best, and your ass better be watching."

_Salvia, blue. I think of you. Gladiolus. Remembrance._

He opened his eyes are he heard footsteps and stilled, not sure if it was an attack or something else.

"So do all weirdo's talk to their swords?" 

Zoro looked up, startled and made eye contact with Sanji. The blond was dressed in a black suit, oddly fitting yet overly formal and Zoro gave a wry grin. He hadn't actually expected the other to show up. He didn't even think that their interaction the night before had been real. The whole had felt like such a wild fever dream. "I mean, most people sexually touch their _swords_ and call it 'beating' so I don't see how talking to one makes me the weirdo." He raised an eyebrow, smirking as his expression was matched evenly.

"The grass has jokes. Lovely." Sanji drawled in that uncaring way that Zoro somehow found himself soothed by. The blond had a way of sounding so disinterested that it eased his inner apprehension and desire to stay away from the spotlight. After all, it wasn't like he was in a competition.

"Oi, can it curly. You're the _last_ one I want to hear nicknames from." The 17 year old hissed with out heat, giving an exaggerated point to his forehead, trying to hold back a low chuckle at the incredulous growl he got in return.

"Likewise." Sanji said, and the lapsed into silence soon after. The weather was nice, almost in an insulting way. The sun shone brightly, and Zoro watched the sky, trying to picture his sister up in the sky, safe and happy. He tried to picture her as something other than a aimless soul. Though Kuina being with some God was a hilarious thought. He wouldn't put it past her to challenge the being for it fucking throne.

"It was hers." he found himself speaking, words flowing as though he'd always been saying them. "I thought...well, I don't really know what I thought. Maybe that she'd hear me?"

The blond took a drag from his cigarette and turning away to release the smoke. Even the small gesture had Zoro grinning slightly. "Religious beliefs then?" 

He laughed at that, dark and thrumming with distaste. " _Hell_ no." He snarled, clenching his teeth. "God isn't real. the afterlife isn't real. We live. We die. Simple as that." Zoro paused, letting his thoughts wander. "I _do_ see why people like to believe in one though." 

There was something immensely comforting in guaranteed safely. In the thought that life wasn't over, even at the end. It gave purpose to people's actions. Gave motivation to so good. 

"Ah." Sanji hummed rocking back on his feet, before leaning back against the cracked and faded concrete wall. 

His casualness made Zoro stare at the teen, appalled by the nonchalance. Hos glare didn't go unnoticed. 

_"What?"_

Zoro frowned, not sure how to word his question. "Why are you so...unapologetic?" It was strange, how detached the blond made himself. It wasn't like Zoro _wanted_ pity, but he knew a situation like this tended to warrant it, regardless of what he wanted. There was a beat of silence, then the teen spoke, his voice low, and regretful. 

But also filled with unbridled joy in a toxic combination. _Marigold, despair. Grief. Jealousy. Pink Carnation, I'll never forget you._

"That girl. She'd dead." Sanji started bluntly, glancing over at Zoro with a blank expression. "And thats not my fault. For once, it wasn't _me_." There was a thrum of pride and desperation in his tone and the 17 year old watched as the blond stubbed out his death stick and reached for his hair. "I won't say sorry for a misfortune I didn't directly contribute to." He let out a dry laugh, wrought with loathing. "Sick bastard, aren't I? For feeling happy that something terrible happened to someone I care about and I wasn't the cause. You're sad, and its not my fault and I'm so fucking _happy."_

Zoro stared in silence, not exactly sure what he was feeling. There was rage, a mounting fury that was held at bay by a sliver of understanding. He clenched his fist and the pale teen followed the motion, lips twisting into a kind of smile. 

_Rose, dark crimson. Mourning. Petunia. Rage._

"Opia!" Sanji blurted, crossing his arms and looking away. 

The swordsman tilted his head in confusion, raising a shoulder. 

"The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable." Sanji glanced away, teeth biting into bottom lip. "Don't look at me like that and just make a decision."

"A decision." Zoro repeated, still not sure what the fuck was going on.

Sanji gazed at him with tired eyes. "I said something that offended you right? You wanted to punch me. Then hesitated. So pick."

He hardly had to be told twice.

Zoro punched him. Hard.

He watched as Sanji reeled back, forcibly stopping his reflexes from kicking in. The blonde looked up, giving Zoro a triumphant grin through his bang, a look that was flattering, in a weird way. "Feel better?"

The swordsman stared at his fist, letting out a shit eating grin that Kuina would've been proud of. "I can't tell, I might have to do it again."

Sanji laughed, wagging his finger in a playful manner. "Oh no Marimo, one hit is all you get!"

 _Marimo?_ His eye twitched. "I'm definitely kicking your ass now!" He chased after the blond, only belatedly realizing that this was the first time he'd laughed since yesterday. 

_Lilac. Joy of youth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> (Zoro was naming flowers by the way)
> 
> I made Sanji's thing words and Zoro's flowers. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts!


	3. Dead Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alright then Marimo. Let's run away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the playlist for this fic, if you're interested!  
> And if you have any recs, don't hesitate to tell me
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7txjANY38Uev2Smuw6fTI5

_And for once, Bravery looked a lot like running away._

_-_ Kat Savage

* * *

It had been a month since they'd known each other. Sanji never thought he'd have to interact with a person who had a death affect them and yet here he was. It was a strange thing, all things considered, since he could tell that Zoro changed, but couldn't tell how. It wasn't as though he knew the teen before. 

So it felt like getting to know a stranger, which in essence, was exactly what they were. 

How much could he _really_ learn about someone in the span of a month? Let alone a person as stoic and enigmatic as Roronoa Zoro. Though he supposed that was something. The fact that he knew the teen’s full name. Sanji felt his phone buzz in his pocket and smirked, knowing who it would be on the other end. Maybe that was another perk, the fact that they had each other’s phone numbers and texted constantly like affection deprived children. Which really wouldn’t be surprising now that he thought about it. 

**Marimo_Bastard [3:30 pm]:** _Oi! You’re late._

The blond shook his head, letting out a tiny snicker as he packed the rest of their lunch, hands still slightly sticky from the onigiri. It was his third time making it, having only tried when the swordsman mentioned it to him offhand that it was his favorite food. _I used to make it with Kuina all the time. We trained for so long that by the time we were done everything was closed._

When Sanji went home that night, he looked up a recipe and did what he could to make it as authentic as possible. He hadn’t felt very good about it, but he wasn’t one for wasting food, and the way Zoro tried to hide his tears as he scarfed the salmon filled confections down more than made up for it. 

He shook his head clear of the memories, reaching over the kitchen counter to grasp the green tupperware top. It was a joke of sorts, one Sanji didn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Wiping his fingers on the apron that Reiju had gotten for him a year ago, he reached for his phone, jumping slightly when his thumb brushed over the camera app. _Gentlecook,_ was written on it and like hell would Sanji ever admit that he loved the damn thing. But his sister knew anyways. Point was, it’d be a long, cold fucking day in hell before he _ever_ let Zoro see him in this thing, and like shit was he going to send a picture by accident. It’d be even worse than if he sent nudes.

 **Curlybrow_Ero-Cook [3:35 p.m]:** _Aww is that your idiot way of saying you tried to get there early but got lost? Does the pretty princess need me to save him?_

When he didn’t get an immediate answer, Sanji chuckled, tucking the packed food into a large bag and taking his apron off. It was always a great feeling when he managed to fluster the brash idiot. He put the extra bowls into the fridge and left the door opened, running to the table to grab a sticky note before marching back. He wrote _eat up, assholes_ on the small orange square in a messy scrawl and stuck it on top of Yonji’s plate. He closed the refrigerator and grabbed the bag, making his way to the front door, key in hand. Sanji felt his phone buzz again as he bent over to put on his shoes and he smirked, tying up the laces of his black sneakers and straightening his hoodie-- which was also black. If Zoro noticed that he’d been wearing the color of mourning as silent support, he didn’t mention it, but that wasn’t a big deal anyways.

He walked out the house and down down the driveway, slipping out his phone and watching as the message popped up on his lock screen. 

**Marimo_Bastard [3:45]:** _I’ll kill you._

Sanji snorted at the half assed threat and fired back with his own response.

 **Curlybrow_Ero-Cook [3:45]** : _You’re gonna have to jump in line shitty swordsman._

The moment his finger pressed send, he flinched, ears hot, palm itching, and desperately in need of a cigarette. He was still getting used to the whole, _“be empathetic”_ thing, and realized early on that his typical self-deprecating humor would hit every sore spot for Zoro that there was. He guided himself to the sidewalk, giving one cursory glance around before looking back at his phone, hefting the bag into the crook of his elbows so that he could both hands. Before he could apologize though, the green haired teen text back.

 **Marimo_Bastard [3:47]:** _Don’t worry, I’ll cut them all down._

Simple words but they made something soft tingle in his chest. He felt warm, grinning like a fool at the small screen. Briefly, Sanji wondered if this was what it was like to have friends. He hoped so, and a tinge of frustration colored his mood. _Adronitis._ He thought bitterly, the word leaving a bad taste in his mouth. _Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone._

But he didn’t think he too much minded taking the time to truly get to know Zoro, however long that was, despite his fear that the swordsman would eventually tire of him. It didn’t stop his fingers from flying across the electronic keypad to type three words, all of them as teasing and affectionate as they could be.

 **Curlybrow_Ero-Cook [3:49]:** _You fucking sap._

|-+-|

Sanji wouldn’t label himself as a kind person. Not really. He did things to help others from time to time, but it was more for his own benefit than anything else. That was why when the dark, older man cried tears praising the food made for him and Zoro, the blond let the words flow over him. “It’s nothing.” He said, smiling widely and swallowing down that hollow, empty feeling. “Everyone deserves to eat.” 

Gin-- that was the man’s name-- smiled at him, brown skin no longer ashen and obsidian eyes still watery. “Thank you. Really. I was ready to just lay down and die.”

Someone else who faced death, albeit in a different way. He wondered what it meant that he kept running into people like that. It was almost like some kind of sign, but he couldn’t tell if it was supporting or not. 

“Why die when you can live another day?” the blond asked lightly, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. “Or you could even live just to spite those who want you dead. It's your choice.” 

They were tucked in the hidden crevice of an alleyway, and Sanji had come across the guy by chance, figuring the stupid walking plant would get lost in some odd place like that. He ran into Gin, and gave him the rice balls, trying not to preen as they disappeared one by one into greedy hands and a hungry stomach. Maybe the food made Gin’s tongue loose because then Sanji was suddenly on the receiving end of a harrowing backstory. 

“You said you used to be part of some big shot gang right?” The chef asked and the man gave a wary nod, perhaps realizing that he spilled a bit too much information. He glanced over, meeting the dark gaze gave a cheeky leer. “Fuck them. I know this is easier said than done but...you have your own dreams right? Go ahead and chase them.”

Gin cried again. 

  
  


Of all the fucking places, Sanji found Zoro at a random fucking park, that was surpisingly closer to the bridge than he expected. The idiot mosshead was napping under a tree, arms behind his head and mouth wide open, a bit of drool pouring out the side. The sight made the blond wrinkle his nose fondly, opening his mouth to call the bastard before closing it again, choosing to observe him instead. 

Zoro was wearing a black shirt and jacket. Sanji choked down a laugh as he saw the words on the swordsman’s shirt. _Thank God I’m an Atheist._

He always knew the moss had a sense of humor deep down. 

Zoro looked peaceful, the normally harsh lines on his face suddenly gone, smoothed out as though they were never there. The sight was irrationally endearing. He watched the steady rise and fall of the teen’s chest in fascination. Earlier, he thought that was surrounded by death constantly in recent times. But looking at Zoro reminded him of the new life that had arrived as well.

“Done staring shit cook?” said “life” spoke, not bothering to open his eyes but sounding as though he’d been awake the entire time. Which he probably had.

Sanji rolled his eyes and told himself that he wasn’t blushing. He smirked evilly. “I was just wondering what would be the best way to wake up the sleeping princess.” he said, making obnoxious kissing noises as he wriggled his eyebrows, taking great pleasure from watching Zoro squirm. “I was just thinking that mouth to mouth would be the most effective.”

He watched as the swordsman scrambled up hurriedly, aiming a lazy punch in Sanji’s direction. 

“As if, shitty Ero-Cook.” 

“Awww, such a shame.” He simpered with a shit eating grin, watching as Zoro stretched, shirt lifting and tan skin coming exposed. 

He looked away.

Suddenly, Zoro was close, leaning in and looking all over the chef’s body, a disturbingly intense look in his eyes. Sanji tensed, wondering what the fuck was going on and raised a leg, preparing to kick the idiot, when he jumped back, a puzzled frown coming over his features.

“No food?” Came the question and Sanji had to stop himself from keeling over at the unfairly cute head tilt. 

He straightened, burying the lower half of his face inside his hoodie and gave an unapologetic grin. “Sorry. I had a meal. But then came across someone who needed it more.” His expression turned thoughtful as he pondered how Gin would fare. “I let him keep the bowls, figured he could pile scraps to hold them if needed.”

Sanji blinked, feeling somewhat uncomfortable when Zoro just stared at him, wearing a peculiar look.

“What is it, algae for brains?” The blond snapped, feeling irritatingly apprehensive. _Pâro._ The word popped into his mind unwelcome, making the chef grimace _. The feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder._

Sometimes he hated that he knew these stupid fucking words. He hated even more how intrusive they were.

“I can’t figure you out.” Zoro said suddenly, sounding pensive. His eyebrows were furrowed, amber gaze boring into his own. “You act so nonchalant, but then you…” he trailed off, flailing his hand in a broad gesture, “you go and do shit like feed some random person and I don't know what to think.”

“Everyone deserves to eat.” Sanji replied, echoing his earlier statement to Gin and Zoro nodded empathetically, as though the chef only proved his statement.

“See, that's the weird shit I’m talking about.” The swordsman groused. “You talk like…” he trailed off, eyes going wide and the blonde new he figured it out, at least partially.

 _You talk like you’ve been through it before._ Hung in the air ominously, a grenade that neither was willing to pull the pin from.

Eventually Zoro just snorted, rolling his eyes with a small smile. “And you call _me_ the sap.”

  
  
  


“--and there’s this guy named Mihawk. Dracule Hawkeye Mihawk. He’s fucking strong. I mean _strong._ I’m going to kick his ass.” Zoro rarely ever spoke outside of grunts, and if someone had told Sanji that this was how his newfound friend acted when the topic of swordsmanship was brought up, he would’ve never believed it.

A part of him knew that silence was a large facet of the other’s personality, but also watching him gush like a little school boy was captivating and it made Sanji wonder if that's how he was a month ago.

He listened patiently as Zoro spoke about Kuina, speaking with a love that was so pure it was almost sickening. His cheeks were rosy, eyes the brightest that the chef had ever seen them, so _alive_ that Sanji could never see death claiming such a man. 

“There was this one time Ku and I snuck into a blacksmith shop, one of the smallest in the whole fucking city. Didn’t even have cameras.” Zoro flashed him a mischievous smile. “So her and I thought, _lets fucking steal from this bitch._ We needed the cleaning oil, and our old man was always pretty pressed for money, you know?” The swordsman let out a small chuckle. “Except the old as _fuck_ guy begind the counter who we thought would get his ass kicked by the _wind_ was actually a fucking expert fencer. Would’ve skewered our asses had he been using a rapier instead of a cane.” 

“And how were you punished?” Sanji questioned, tilting his head down to use his bang as shade. “Or did your father not find out.”

Zoro let out a dark chuckle, kicking at the dirt track amicably. They were walking along the park path, figuring that it was better to have a change in scenery anyways. “Oh yeah, he found out. Forbid me and Kuina from participating in that month’s kendo tournament.”

“You two went anyway, didn’t you?” Sanji asked, feeling a sense of dead reckoning. _To find yourself bothered by someone’s death more than you would have expected, as if you assumed they would always be part of the landscape, like a lighthouse you could pass by for years until the night it suddenly goes dark, leaving you with one less landmark to navigate by—still able to find your bearings, but feeling all that much more adrift._

It wasn’t like he knew the girl, but she had so much life in Zoro’s stories that it was hard not to like her, and subsequently feel like shit about the fact that she wasn’t here on Earth anymore, unless the dirt counted.

“Damn right we went anyway.” The swordsman laughed, a loud boisterous one. The most child-like that Sanji had seen from him, revealing a hidden dimple in the tan teen’s left cheek. “Won the whole damn thing too. Wish you could’ve seen it. Ku dressed up like a boy-- boys only competition-- kicked everyone’s ass, including mine and then walked out the locker room wearing a fucking _sports bra_ and shit eating grin _._ Koshiro was _pissed.”_ Zoro rolled his eyes, voice only faltering a bit, before it picked back up. “He couldn’t keep the smile off his face for long though, gave us both a hug, before knocking us flat on our asses and--- _oi_! Oi cook! The hell is wrong with you?”

Sanji blinked, confused, when he felt something wet on his face. He reached his hand up and brushed his cheek, semi surprised when it came back streaked with tears. He sniffed in embarrassment, turning his face away and wiping harshly at his eyes. 

“Ah sorry.” he croaked, feeling like such a loser. “It happens sometimes.” 

“ _What_ happens sometimes?” Zoro pressed, voice tight with an emotion Sanji couldn’t name and the blonde shrugged helplessly, tears still coming.

"They say it's a feeling that doesn't go away. A sensation that gnaws that you. Eats at your brain and crawls under your skin until there's nothing left but scraps." Sanji flexed his fingers, knowing his expression was haunted, eyes rimmed red and cheeks flushed. "Monachopsis, it's called. The constant feeling of being out of place."

They fell into silence, and he was grateful for it. The blond wasn’t used to spilling his emotions like that, always having such a tight leash on them. In a way, it felt nice to let go. 

"Then let's find somewhere." Zoro responded, mouth set in a rigid line that the blond learned to recognize as stubborn determination. "A place, just for us."

The chef stared in open mouth shock, trying and failing to say something back. It was so surreal, to hear a person he met a little over 30 days ago offer him something like this.

Sanji couldn't help it. He laughed. _Hard._ Zoro was looking away now, face a burning red and eyes flaring with a mix of rage and embarrassment as Sanji doubled over, clutching his ribs as he gasped for air. 

He was crying even more now, tears dripping onto the pale sand and turning it a dark brown. He couldn’t tell what kind of tears they were, but it felt good. Light.

Happy.

"Alright then Marimo. Let's run away." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know your thoughts!


	4. Say Goodbye (To HollyWood)

_I am telling you now_

_For the sake of everything greater_

_Do not hesitate to run_

\- SEEKEA

* * *

"I want _you_ to inherit this dojo and its will. I think you'd do wonderfully." Koshiro said, his voice soft and lips curved in a pleased smile. "It'd be such an honor, if you carried the legacy of my pride and joy."

Zoro blinked, confused, and not quite understanding the situation. “But you have Kuina.” he pointed out simply, wondering how the _hell_ the old man could forget his own daughter. “If anyone should take over, it should be her.” The 10 year old shrugged. “You know, if she wants to anyways.”

When he was 13, Kuina confessed a secret to him. 

"I like flowers." She said, head down and tears forming in hers eyes. She was 15 and had just only just begun to hear what would soon be a long string of, "things that make a woman."

Liking flowers was on that list. 

Becoming the greatest swordsman in the whole entire world-- well, it was certainly unheard of. That was how Koshiro put it, when Zoro overheard the man speaking with his daughter. He hadn't been sure what made him listen in, only that one moment he was heading back to his room from taking a much needed piss and then the next he hiding behind the door.

It was quiet, but really, it could've been a shit ton of commotion and Zoro _still_ would have heard the sound of his childhood friend crying. He'd never experience hatred before, despite his hot-headed temperament. Not for the father he never knew, or the mother that abandoned him and never looked back. He never considered it might not be normal, that it wasn't _right_. And so he could never hate them, even after realizing what they did to him was wrong. But right now, listening as Koshiro told Kuina her dream would never come true-- which it _wouldn't,_ but only because _Zoro_ was going to be the strongest swordsman-- it pissed him off. Filled him with something dark and primal. 

He didn't sleep that night, and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the best method was to tell your best friend you thought they were strong while still kicking their ass.

"I like flowers." Kuina said again, like it was some kind sin, a demon that needed to be exorcised. "I like them so much. So much that it proves their point. They're right. I'm just a girl."

"And I'm just a boy." he didn't get what the big fucking deal was. Flowers didn't determine strength. Him personally, he could give less than a shit about some plants, especially given the fact that he got compared to them all too often. That didn't mean that he ragged on others though. Their interests were of no concern to him.

"You're not _just_ a boy!" Kuina yelled, blue eyes wide and dark, tears flying as she spoke. "You _ARE_ a boy! Don't you know what that _means?_ " her voice cracked as she spoke, shoulders hunched and angry and so unlike the girl he admired. "You can do _anything_! Go _anywhere._ Fight _anyone!_ And _nobody_ will stop you! One day, even this body of mine will fail me."

"Bullshit." he growled, getting angry, fist balled and shoulders shaking. " _Bullshit!_ Don't try and say that all the training I've done is _pointless_!" There were tears in his eyes, ones that he hadn't even known formed and in a flashed he tackled the girl to the ground, their shinai clattering to the floor. "I'm going to kick your ass one day. And its going to be because of my _own_ strength, and not some weird fucking genetics like _being a girl._ That's irrelevant. Don't let anyone tell you different."

He was breathing heavy, chest heaving like a maniac and Zoro stared up at the sky.

"Hey." Kuina started, sounding whimsical and sad. "Has it ever crossed your mind, that we could just run away? Escape into the world a carve a place somewhere out there for ourselves? Not that I'd pressure you into running away with me." she smirked, all badass and awesome and just how he liked her. "You'd be to chicken too anyways."

Zoro didn't know _what_ he could do by himself. But him and Kuina together would make waves, their names would shake the Earth to its very core. 

_Gladiolus. A name to the Roman Gladiators who fought fiercely for their freedom. This flower is perfect for anyone fighting through something difficult, from divorce to illness._

_|-+-|_

The expression on Zoro's face was priceless, amber eyes opened wide, mouth slightly agape, as though he hadn't actually thought that Sanji would agree with him. His thought was proven true when the swordsman leapt back, hands out and brow twitching comically. "O-oi, are you _serious_ Curly?" 

Sanji tilted his head playfully, feeling strangely calm about the whole conversation and more than a bit amused. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, idiot." he replied, though his growl held no real heat. He pat his pockets, stroking reassuringly over the secret pouch he'd sown into the inner lining of his blazer. "I even have some starter cash." he shrugged carelessly at Zoro's questioning look, clearly still reeling from the legitimate answer to a playful suggestion. "Always wanted to run away, go off and find the ocean. Never knew when it would all become too much, so I started saving cash."

At that, the blond gave a rakish grin, lips tangling with the thin cigarette as he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking guileless and much younger than his 17 years. "I'm loaded dude. I've saved up like, what, three grand? That's a decent start, Don't you think?"

"What the fuck man?!" Zoro growled. "You actually serious!"

"Yeah, I am." Sanji nodded smartly, though the wide smile he'd sported had started to slip. "Were...you not?" 

A stupid question. Of course he wasn't. The idiot was just speaking on a whim.

Zoro raised a hand, scratching the back of his head. "I mean. I don't know?" The words came like a question. "I haven't actually thought about it."

The blond sighed, nodding in understanding, stamping out his disappointment. "Yeah, I had a feeling. Too good to be true and all that." 

"I never said we couldn't." Zoro's voice cut in, harsh and determined. "I just don't know _how_ to do it. Don't shit like this cost money?"

Despite the fact that they were talking about possibly leaving their lives behinds, the two of them, just barely strangers going off, into the big world, Sanji _had_ to laugh. "What the hell Marimo? Did you miss the part where I said i was loaded? I have cash, a ton of it. And someone who will help us too. If this is something you really want." he cast a side glance over to the other. "I won't pressure you into anything."

Zoro stared at him with a wide gaze, so open and earnest that it made the blonde squirm a bit. Such raw honestly wasn't something he was used to. It was strange and made him feel exposed, even though he wasn't the one saying anything.

"She, told me the same thing, you know?" The green haired teen spoke, sounding dazed, amber eyes glazing over as if lost in a memory. "A few year ago, we had a nearly identical conversation."

"Oh?" Sanji asked, feeling curious-- and maybe a little jealous-- about the one other person who could evoke emotion out of the stupid stoic swordsman. "That right?"

"You should meet her!" Zoro blurt, before slamming his mouth shut, clearly not meaning to have said that. "I- I mean, you know, you should-- the cemetery-- and-- yeah." he finished lamely. 

The blond smiled, raising a hand and ruffling it through Zoro's hair. "Yeah, sure thing Marimo. I'd love to meet the woman who handed your ass to you on a daily basis." he grinned, though it was brittle and forced. "In return, you can meet my mother. We'll be like star crossed lovers, but with familial approval." Sanji raised a brow, mulling over his own words. "Though that wouldn’t be so 'star crossed' huh?" 

He watched gleefully as Zoro blushed, ears flaring red the way they did when the pale teen mentioned anything even remotely romantic. It was beyond amusing to see. So much so that he could help but poke at the oaf’s cheeks, letting out sly remarks and doging half assed swipes. 

It was so much fun, that for once Sanji let his guard drop completely, for once he let his senes be dulled.

“House Failure,,” a cool voice interjected, sending shivers down his spine, and freezing his blood. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been heading off to for the past 45 days. Typical that you’d you’d find yourself within the company of a man.”

”So who’s the new fuck toy?” Someone else asked and the blonde flinched. 

“ _Shit_.” Sanji whispered.

How much did they hear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo  
> I left a cliff hanger UwU


	5. Sonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/3nniterVy-8
> 
> Listened to that song while writing this.  
> Does it fit? No, not really? But did it help me write? Yes. UwU

_ Let's go anywhere. _

\- Unknown

* * *

A few weeks after Kuina confessed her love for flowers, Zoro found himself sitting in front of the old, dusty computer that the dojo had, stuffed in the corner like the forgotten thing it was. Technology was running rampant in the world, but for some reason his village was still particularly old fashioned. Not he cared, as long he could still train it didn't matter in the slightest.

Researching flowers was a lot fucking harder than he thought it'd be. First off, why the hell were there so _many?_

Second, every time he thought he found one he liked, it ended up not being on he could find! Natives to a region or some shit. He didn't get it. 

Damn, why did girls like such weird shit. Except it wasn't only girls. It was _Kuina._

Kuina who liked things for a reason. He could kind of understand it, especially when he learned on day after practice that flowers could actually _mean_ things. It was cool to him, the idea that he could create a whole little world for himself out of these small plants and no one but him would have to know. 

Zoro wondered if that's how she felt. 

"Oi! What's your favorite?" He asked, after their usual spar. "Flower I mean? There's so many, which one do _you_ like the most. _I_ like the thistle!"

She laughed, poking him in the side with her shinai, purposefully stabbing him in his injured ribs. " _Of course_ that'd be your favorite. You are super spiky like one!"

"Oi!" He growled, blushing and trying to pretend like he wasn't. The fell into silence and for a moment he was sure she wouldn't answer.

"I like Marigolds." Kuina said, quiet and contemplating. "The original meaning of them, is grief, sorrow, and mourning. But someone over time it evolved to represent unwavering strength. Maybe people felt that if your persevered through your lost, or sadness and hardships, then you were strong. Sometimes I want to know what those people would've thought of me. And what meaning of Marigold would they have seen?"

Zoro didn't respond, though he did put his hand out, making a grabby motion. Kuina huffed, before clasping their hands together. 

They laid on the ground for a long time.

The next morning he woke early, rushing to the store and damn near cheering in excitement when the he plant shop had the little gold flowers. He bullied some girls into helping him out and a few hours later burst into the dojo, chest heaving and hands on his hips.

On his head rested a messy crown of Marigolds. Zoro grinned viciously, and beat up anyone who tried to make fun of him. He cut them all down, especially one boy in particular, who seemed intent on making him feel lesser as a human being. 

That one he made bleed using his own two fists. It got him suspended from practice, but was definitely worth it. 

Later that night, Zoro handed a piece of the crown to Kuina, the yellow petals some what crushed and covered in dried blood. He gave her a sidelong glance and smiled. "I think its okay for it to mean both. For you to _be_ both."

|-+-|

"Zoro. I need you to listen to me. Okay?" 

Zoro didn't think he'd ever seen the other so frightened. Sanji was eerily still, blue eye wide open pupil shrunk down to nothing but a needle point. 

As subtly as possible, the he nodded, the blond's immediate reaction to the teen's behind them, letting him know just how dangerous they were. _No sudden movements,_ Sanji's stillness seemed to be screaming. At Zoro's affirmation not to do anything reckless, he saw the chef's shoulder droop, just a fraction. 

"Don't ask questions, don't do anything. Just run. When I tell you to, I _need_ you to run." Without waiting for a response, Sanji stood and twirled around with a grace that was frightening, somehow managing to shield Zoro as he did so. And if he hadn't seen with his own eyes how terrified the blond had been only seconds before, he would've never connected that person with one in front of him now. 

"Ichiji." Sanji drawled, shifting so that his hands were in his pockets. _A protective measure,_ the swordsman remembered, after and the other got into a spar and Zoro lost his temper, beginning to target the cook's hands on purpose because he thought the blond was underestimating. 

That has been a long, uncomfortable conversation. But enlightening all the same, and had given Zoro a newfound level of respect for his friend of 45 days. 

"It's lovely seeing you outside of the laboratory for once. Done trying to create a cure for my 'illness'?" Sanji finished, sounding calm and composed, though there was thrum of anger beneath all of his words. "Or are you finally coming to your fucking senses and realizing that I'm _not_ sick."

He was speaking to the one in red. Zoro wanted to crane in neck around Sanji's legs, to stare those fuckwads in the eye, but he remembered the fear in that overly expressive blue eye. _No sudden movements._ His own instincts yelled this time, loud and insistent, utterly demanding. _Or you'll die._

Were the other two really so strong? It pissed him off just to think about it. This Ichiji person and whoever the hell else was there. 

"No, little brother, I'm more than positive that your a sick, greedy, little fuck. The way you've always been, running off to hide behind out mother like you crawl your pathetic ass back up her vagina." The words came with a harsh laugh, a snarky lilt infused with it and Zoro watched with growing rage as Sanji said nothing, choosing instead to let the vulgar words roll off him. This must be the other person that was here.

"Don't you _dare_ bring mom into this." Sanji growled, and the swordsman could see the way his fists balled through the thick pockets. "She has _nothing_ to do with with the people I like!"

There was a terrible silence, then Ichiji spoke, cold and halting, in a way that sent chills down Zoro's spine, making him bare his teeth in frustration. And maybe a bit of fear.

"Of course it does." The other said calmly, frigid and matter of fact. "After all, _you're_ the one who put mother in the hospital to begin with. It was _you're_ birth that made her so weak, and so unlike herself. It's why you go out of your way to befriend weak people, isn't that right?" Ichiji sounded almost amused as he spoke, clearly seeing the entire situation as a joke, even though it was far from that. 

Sanji must've sensed that he was about to say something, because then the chef tensed, moving even closer to him, if that were possible, and blocking his older brothers from sight completely. It was as though he didn't want them noticing Zoro _at all._ As if he could just make them forget the green haired teen ever existed, just by standing in the way long enough. 

_Hamamelis, also known as Witch Hazel._ The flower flashed in his mind. _A thin, wispy yellow flower, delicate in in appearance but in truth was far from it. Blooming on trees that grow to be well over 26 feet tall, it was sturdy, and resistant to a lot of harsh weather._

 _It_ was rare that Zoro ever found someone who brought the memories of his flower researching day back, but Sanji seemed to have a special knack for it. As infuriating-- and admirable as it was. Didn't help that the other was like sin on legs, though _that_ was a rabbit hole he didn't plan on falling down any time soon. 

"Hey, boy!" The other brother called, and it took everything in him to remain in his weird crouched position, knowing that his friend wouldn't want him to respond. 

"Niji, leave him alone." The chef hissed. "Keep him out of our shit."

Niji just laughed. "Trying to keep your dirty little preferences a secret, that it? Or maybe he's a fuck toy of yours and you haven't broken the news to him yet." Zoro couldn't see, but he _knew_ even without looking what kind of ruthless smirk the other would be wearing. "That you like taking it up the ass almost as much as you like salivating over pussy and tits. Or were you hoping he'd fuck you raw and rough first before you spilled the beans? Doesn't matter anyways, bisexual or faggot, you both are sick fucks."

"Enough." Ichiji interjected, bored and passive. "The time for talk is over."

Sanji twitched.

"Run." the blond whispered.

Zoro blinked, mind still trying to process the revelation he just heard and command that just followed. Bisexual? Sanji? Zoro would've never guessed, though maybe meeting a guy under a bridge and cooking him meals and shit should've been a sign. Right? But then, he didn't like to assume shit, and it wasn't like the idiot chef's sexuality was on his mind often anyways. Still though, there was a part of him that wondered. 

Wondered things that would lead him into very dangerous territory--

"RUN. You fucking _moron!"_

Something grabbed the back of his hoodie and hauled him to a standing position, it all happening to fast that he was still in a daze. There was Sanji's eyes-- both visible now from the blond's flurried movements-- and flushed cheeks. Then here was a hand suddenly in his own and pulling him in the opposite direction. After a moment, he feet seemed to get the memo and soon they were running in tandem, hands clasped and breathing heavy.

He listened as the sounds of their pursuers faded into silence, until there was nothing but the sounds of road traffic as they neared back towards the road, away from the park trails. Sanji dragged him across the street, apparently knowing where they were going, and he was perfectly content to let the other lead, pausing his train of thought to marvel at the fact that he trust someone with his life so soon after meeting. 

Zoro wasn't sure where they ran, or how far for that matter. He looked around, trying to piece together his surroundings and failing miserably. 

"I--i'm sorry about them." Sanji said, startling him out of his thoughts. The blond wouldn't look him in the eye, and Zoro scoffed, knowing that it was because of what his brothers unwillingly exposed.

"You know," he started, hating the way Sanji flinched, seeming to shrink back into the shell he'd been slowly coming out of. "I don't really care _who_ I end up with, if that even ends up happening anyways. See, I have what's called, _blanket attraction_. I don't really see people? Or more like I see everyone on an equal platform. There's no preference." Zoro shrugged, smiling slightly when he saw the other steal a glance at him, looking surprised and a bit hopeful. "The closest sexuality to that would be Pansexual, but I'm not really one for labels. Besides, there's so many, that I know I'd only keep changing it anyways."

"So. You're really okay with it?" 

"Yeah Curly, I'm really okay with it."

He glanced over at Sanji, feeling a bit of sweat drop down his head when he noticed the chef's wide grin. 

Blanket attraction may not have been the correct word after all, because Zoro wasn't sure he'd ever be able to put anyone on equal footing with Sanji ever again. The blond caught him staring, and suddenly that blue gaze seemed a little _too_ innocent.

"Hey." the chef started, drawling out the words. "Since you don't mind me and all-- I accept you too by the way, would have, even if I _were_ straight-- I just wanted to know... My brothers are a bit insane. And we need a place to lay low, at least for a few hours. So tell me, how do you feel about transgenders and cross dressers?" 

Zoro shrugged, mulling it over. He didn't really care either way. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as they don't try to force me into a dress or something, I could give less than a shit."

Sanji let out a somewhat dark chuckle. "Lovely. Get ready mosshead, today you're going to learn a lot about me. Thats only fair, considering I'll soon be your partner in crime, don't you think? It'll be very sonder for you!"

And there went the idiot, spewing one of those weird words again. "Very _what?"_

"Sonder!" Sanji chirped, already looking significantly happier than a few minutes before. "The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own." The chef winked, grabbing Zoro's hand again and leading them down some road. "My tale is a long one, and you've yet to get meet my mother! We can hardly be star crossed lovers with familial approval without her right?"

He froze, then turned and fixed the swordsman with a bashful grin. "Sorry, I said something insensitive again, didn't I, reminding you of your sister's death. I'm sorry."

Zoro only looked on in awe, feeling something suspiciously like a butterfly flutter in his stomach. 

He killed it instantly.

This _really_ wasn't the time.

"It's fine Curlicue. Come on, lets go be star crossed lovers or some shit."

_Shit._

He was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo hooo  
> hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Drapetomania is a word that was originally use to describe African Americans and their desire to run away from enslavement. The word was coined by Dr. Cartwright, a physician who believed that Drapetomania was "the disease of causing Negros to run away"  
> It was believed that those of black descent had an inherent fear of "servitude" and that Slaves owners who tried to raises them on their level, rather than below them (as should be and was ordained by God) then said salves owners would make the slave wish to escape.  
> It was also believed that as long as the Black Slaves remained "spell bound" (brainwashed with a religion that was never their's and told(kindly, without cruelty) that their entire purpose in life was to serve the white man, the slave will not run away, will be physically incapable. 
> 
> I hate the history behind it. But I do like the word, as modern society describes it. That being, "the strong desire to run away" and as such is the entire point of this fic.  
> I also believe that it fits Zoro and Sanji's situation, though in much more benign way. Sanji, faced with the expectations and rulings of the Vinsmokes, as well as their constant abuse in all forms. Zoro, with the honor of the dojo on his shoulders and the ghost of Kuina haunting him.  
> Anyway, I wanted to share that, in case anyone here was or was not aware of the original definition.


End file.
